


Fresh Til' Death (What's Next?)

by SOMETHINREAL



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: 365 FRESH inspired, Eventual Smut, Hairstylist! Wonpil, Kleptomaniac! Brian, M/M, Major Character Injury, Multi, Non-Graphic Violence, Past FWB! jaebri, Robbers inspired, Sad! Jae, Smoking, Suicide Attempt(s), Threesome - M/M/M, accidental murder, but no character death I'm not about that, im not sorry, mentions of weed, ps accidental murder alongside not so accidental murder, this has a happy ending because my favourite trio deserves it, this sounds super bad but i promise that everything potentially triggering is not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-20 03:22:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15524961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOMETHINREAL/pseuds/SOMETHINREAL
Summary: The one about an (accidental) murderer, a thief, and a guy with unsuccessful suicidal tendencies who somehow miraculously end up going on the run together after some strange meetings. Chaos ensues.(alternatively: the 365 Fresh/Robbers by the 1975 inspired au where jaebripil meet, decide to hit the road together, find thousands of dollars in brian's stolen car, and fall in love after a weird threesome. featuring brian as hui, jae as e'dawn, and wonpil as hyuna).





	1. You've Got a Pretty Kind of Dirty Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> three stories intertwine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. welcome to this fucking mess. I don't know where I was going with this but I've had it in my head for months and have been working on it for just as long. I hope u enjoy uwu   
> chapter title from robbers by the 1975

**_2016_ **

 

Brian’s not really the type of person that people get along with easily. It’s not that he’s unlikeable, it’s simply that he causes trouble from time to time, and people don’t like trouble. There’s nothing wrong with this though, because Brian is perfectly content living his life without a care, it’s just how he’s always been. Brian’s always been a little reckless, back in school he was the kid that everyone either hated or was afraid of, the one who smoked weed under the bleachers and got in too many fights, who people would be surprised to find had an unblemished face. He supposes it’s still like that today. He still can’t go a week without a fight (bar, club, in the street, whatever), he’s so used to his face being bruised that he can hardly remember what it looks like when it isn’t.

It’s _especially_ still like that today. Right now, Brian’s on the run from three tattooed men that could definitely murder him, or at least leave him with some nasty marks. His feet are fucking killing him. He was working a weekend shift for some extra cash at the office of the delivery business he works for Monday to Friday, so he decided on the one pair of shoes that he’d bought for the purpose of looking good, not feeling good. Fashion over comfort, right? They aren’t very practical for being chased down, but then again, how practical is being chased down in itself?

Besides his shift, Brian hasn’t done anything today. At least, nothing productive. He’d woken up at eleven, had a smoke, worked for a few hours, left, got a coffee, had another smoke, walked around town (with not having a car and all), bumped into some dudes by accident, worsened the situation by saying something snarky to them. He’s really gotta learn not to provoke people who could almost for sure kill him and get away with it.

When Brian looks behind him and sees that there’s no one there, he almost laughs. _Fuckers_ , he thinks, giving up on him so easily, but no, no, no, he’s spoken too soon, because when he turns a corner, one of the men is standing there in front of him, but it’s fine. Brian can take him-- or, he can turn and run the other way, which is exactly what he does. When he pivots, he comes face to face with the others and now he’s trapped and probably going to be murdered, but it doesn’t matter. His life was never worth much, anyways.

They’re ganging up on Brian, tag-teaming, Brian almost feels like he’s in a movie or something, although there’s no camera, no special effects, just a smirk that says _Give me what you got_ , and a punch straight to the nose. He doesn’t fight back today, he usually would, but he’s just not feeling it. He lets the blows come, they’re mainly to his stomach, some to his face, arms, wherever else they can reach. The pain is bearable. But it’s really unfair, because it’s three to one, and the party of one isn’t even bothering to resist, he’s just letting them use him as a human punching bag. The blows to his body do nothing compared to the blows to his ego.

They only stop when they’re satisfied, when Brian’s slumped over on the ground, coughing up blood. He doesn’t watch them leave, but he spits the blood and saliva gathering in his mouth in their direction, mainly to be a dick, but partially because the metallic taste makes him sick. It doesn’t reach them. They don’t turn back. _Fuckers_ , he thinks. They got blood on his new silk shirt.

 

-

 

This is not exactly what Wonpil had planned on doing with his life. Ever since he was a child, music has been his number one. He’s gone his whole life saying that he’d become a composer, a music teacher, something along these lines. But he stands today in a beauty salon of his very own. How he got here was beyond him. It goes back to all of the music courses in college filled to the brim, and one of the only available courses written in large letters: _COSMETOLOGY_. He didn’t think that he’d like it at first, _Beauty is for girls_ , all of his asshole friends had told him, but he’d ended up being much better at it than he’d thought.

Beauty is not just for girls. Wonpil knows this now, because he owns _Pillie’s Salon_ all by himself, and brings in customers day in, day out. It’s a small joint just down the street from his apartment, done up with art he’d gotten a friend from school to make for him, soft lights, dark colours. It may not be what he’d pictured himself doing at twenty-one, but he can’t lie and say he doesn’t like it.

He lives comfortably alone, not really needing much but his small apartment and his keyboard. He makes enough for a bigger place, with a kitchen that he can actually fit more than one person into, but he likes where he’s at. It’s warm when he comes home from work; he has a bed he can sleep in, a space for his keyboard, a desk to write at. There’s nothing else he needs to be happy.

Today, his last customer of the day is a man around his age, perhaps a bit older, requesting a haircut, a shave. Wonpil’s just finished tipping back the chair, applying the shaving foam: he’s halfway through shaving the man with a straight razor when it happens. The man touches Wonpil’s thigh. Wonpil notices at first, of course he does-- how could he not? But he brushes it off as an accident, a misplacement, an unintentional brush of fingertips against clothed skin, he keeps doing the job he’s being paid to do. Except the man’s hand returns, creeps further and further and _grips_ , and Wonpil snaps.

“Don’t touch me,” he says at the same time he jumps backwards. He’s accidentally dropped the razor, but it doesn’t matter. He’s far enough away now that the man can’t touch him. Or, it would be very hard for him to.

“And if I do?” the man asks, sitting up quickly. Wonpil’s scared now. There’s no one around, he’s on his own in the shop today, letting the other workers leave early because it’s Saturday, and now he’s too far from the phone to call for help. The man stands from the chair, stalks towards Wonpil, eyes dark, cold.

Wonpil picks up the razor from the ground, points it at the man, narrows his eyes. “Don’t,” he says, voice shaking. But he isn’t ready when the man knocks the blade from his hands, sends it to the floor with another clatter. He doesn’t have time to react when the man pushes him against the counter, crowds his space, tries to kiss his neck. “Get the fuck off of me, you _bastard_.” Wonpil pushes him off with strength he didn’t know he had. Oh no, no, no, _no_.

It happens before Wonpil can even comprehend it. One second he’s pushing the man away, the next, the man is on the ground, a steady pool of blood growing around his head. All Wonpil can see is red. He’s frozen in place, eyes on the man, then up to the counter. _The counter_. Wonpil can’t do anything but watch the blood pool around the man’s body, watch as the man twitches a moment, then stills. Oh, no, _no_ . Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck,_ he’s just _killed_ someone. He’s just killed someone. Wonpil Kim has just accidentally killed somebody and he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s going going to do.

He grabs cloths from his trolley, falls to his knees and tries to sop up the blood, but it just keeps pooling. When he pushes the body, there’s no reaction, so he checks the pulse and there’s _nothing_ , causing the last shred of hope that he may have just passed out to wither away into nothing. Fuck. He’s _dead_. Wonpil’s just killed a man. What the fuck is he going to do?

He takes off his shirt (it must be mentioned that this shirt is his absolute favourite article of clothing. He’d bought it for cheap at a thrift store, but it had been worth more than he could ever have afforded on his own. It was his self proclaimed salon shirt, because 1) he thought the name suited it and 2) he needed to say he had some form of uniform to work in. Anyways, if Past Wonpil knew what Present Wonpil is about to do with it, he may have thought about changing it up today) and uses it to wipe up more blood, tries not to cringe because now his favourite shirt is as good as gone, soaked in the blood of a man that was supposed to be a customer, but now is dead because of an accidental push and the fact that he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

Wonpil tries to lift the body, but can only manage dragging it for now. He figures he can’t just leave it there to rot, and if he’s going to prolong his time he might as well try to hide the body. He disposes it in the dumpster out back and covers it with trash. When he returns to his shop, he puts on the sweater he keeps on the coatrack to cover his bare chest, trying to stop the shakes that won’t seize. There’s blood on his hands. Wonpil gets the mop bucket from the closet, fills it with water and bleach, scrubs the blood from the floor. Then, when he leaves the salon, he reaches into his pocket and grabs a lighter, flicking it on shakily before throwing it in the dumpster. As he runs away, and the garbage slowly begins to catch fire, Wonpil tries to think of something he can do that won’t put him behind bars. There isn’t much.

 

-

 

Jae’s never really been a fan of living. His life has always been kind of shitty; having been the laughing stock of the school as a teen, absent parents, all of your typical bullshit, and now as an adult he _literally_ lives off in a trailer park-- but he’s not complaining. Life has just never really felt worth living. It doesn’t help that everything is a mess; there’s food wrappers and clothes and a pair of underwear that aren’t his on the floor. Where he got those, he hasn’t got a clue. He can’t even remember the last time he got laid. Not many people want to lay a guy that livse in a trailer, has a shitty job, showers at the gym, smokes like it’s going out of style, is mildly suicidal, has enough emotional baggage to write a book, and on, and on, the list is never ending. But it’s all fine. Jae doesn’t need anyone anyways.

He’s tried countless times before to end it, but they were all half-assed attempts in which he gave up halfway through because it’s too much work. Jae’s not even really sure if he wants to die anymore, he thinks that it’s just gotten to a point that it doesn’t even matter, because it’s not like he’s living anyways.

Jae’s slowly rotting away in his trailer home, death isn’t something that he necessarily wants, but it’s not something that he would mind either. So he makes those half-assed attempts, then gets pissed when they don’t work, or he gets fed up that they aren’t working quick enough, then gives up, has a smoke, and goes out and gets drunk. Or goes to the strip club, or some other unhealthy way to cope with whatever he’s dealing with.

Right now he’s kind of at the halfway point between contemplating it and just being tired. But, he supposes that’s how it always is for him. Jae’s staring at himself stare at a pair of sneakers through the mirror. He doesn’t even think about it before he unlaces one and wraps the lace around his neck. It doesn’t do anything but make his face red and have him wheezing a little. He huffs, pulling it off and flinging it away, flopping backwards onto his bed. Who knew that this would be so hard?

Is what Jae’s doing sad? Yeah. It’s really fucking sad. He’s a broke twenty-something with no life living in a trailer home that he can barely afford, with no friends and unsuccessful suicidal tendencies. He could definitely turn things around, but will he? No. Not a chance. Why should he?

There’s a plastic bag on the fold up table that’s got too much shit on it to actually fold up at all. He grabs it and pulls it over his head, uses the tape that’d been sitting next to it to make it airtight. He knows what he was going for with this one, but all it does it make him sweat within the plastic. He’s just sitting there for a few minutes or so until he’s actually suffocating, and _jesus_ , it hurts his chest. He rips a hole in it so he can breathe, takes it off his head as he pants, gasping for air. Fuck this shit. Jae needs a cigarette.

 

-

 

Brian’s always been kind of a club dweller. It’s not that he likes them, the rap and rnb and pop that they play really isn’t his style, nor are the lights, or the people, but it’s something for him to do. This particular club he’s at isn’t really his scene at all. For one, it’s marketed as a club/bar, but it’s more of a lounge than anything else. In fact, the only club-type thing about it is the dancefloor situated in front of the stage where a DJ is playing some music that Brian’s never heard before, some low-fi hiphop that the limited people in the middle are drunk and grinding to. Second, most of the people are _actually_ in their forties, and God, it’s not a pretty sight. And third, there are absolutely no good-looking guys for him to pick up.

Brian is however, chatting up two women at the bar, has been for the past twenty minutes.

They’re pretty, sure, and Brian does feel kind of bad for leading them on, seeing as he is a twenty-something homosexual with zero interest in women, but he has a plan, and the women are too drunk or too gullible to notice that at all. One of them, Sohee, if he’s correct (he’s probably not), is busy feeling up his arms through his shirt (which he’s managed to get the stain out of. For someone who frequents in fights, Brian owes his life to stain remover sticks. He goes through at least three a month) and asking where he got his bruises from while the other, Fei is ordering them all another drink.

“Oh, you know,” he tells her, waving his hand around, trying not to grimace at her grip on his bicep. “I got into a bit of an altercation.” Brian thinks that she tells him that it’s hot, or something. He’s too busy eyeing the pair of keys beside Fei to notice. He downs the shot that Fei’d ordered just out of courtesy before pulling out his phone and feigning a frown. He tells the women that he’s got a friend that needs him, that he’s drunk and needs someone to take him home.

They both pout, and Brian’s not sure whether or not it’s because he’s leaving or that they thought they were getting a lay or what, but he up and leaves anyways, tossing twenty dollars on the counter for them to buy a few more rounds for themselves.

He grins when he leaves, looks down to his hand, eyes the keys, glinting dully in the bright light of the underground parking lot.

Not only does Brian have a thing for picking fights, he’s also the slightest bit of a kleptomaniac. But it’s all in good fun. What’s a couple watches or hundreds in the grand scheme of things? He’s never held a stick up or anything, he’s not _that_ insane, but if he sees something unattended, he’s probably going to take it for himself, that’s just the way that Brian works. He’s not, however, ever stolen something like a car. Who’s to say that he’ll even find it? He hasn’t actually thought this whole thing through yet; he’d seen the keys, taken them, but now he’s in the underground parking lot, searching for a car that he doesn’t even know the make of. The plan sounded better in his head.

But then a thought hits him. The alarm. He presses the button, and to his left, down a ways, a shiny white Mercedes begins to honk. Brian grins. Goodbye Brooklyn.

 

-

 

Brian’s day keeps getting crazier. First getting beat up in a back alley by three guys who didn’t seem to understand the concept of their opponent not fighting back, then talking up those girls and stealing their white Mercedes station wagon, now, Brian’s almost running over some guy that just ran out of an alley. He slams on the brakes, the wheels screeching in protest of the sudden halt, and the guy looks petrified, but maybe that’s because he’s got blood on his hands.

Brian nods towards the passengers side. _Get in_ , he tries to say, even though it’s weird because they’re strangers, but the guy looks relieved.

“You’re not going to murder me, are you?” he asks when he gets in. His voice is surprisingly sweet for the state of him; covered in blood that is presumably not his, looking frazzled, disheveled, panicked.

“No,” Brian says, shakes his head. “I’m Brian. Or Younghyun. Depends on where you’re from.”

“Wonpil,” he says. “But you can call me Pil or Pillie. Any of the three work for me.”

Brian nods. The question is on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t think it’s right to ask.

“You won’t take me to the police, right?”

Brian hums as he pulls away from the curb. “How am I supposed to turn you in if I don’t even know what you’ve done?” Wonpil nods. That seems to be the end of their conversation for now. Brian doesn’t speak up until a few moments later. “Would you like me to take you somewhere?”

“I have nowhere to go.”

“Good thing that I don’t either, I guess.”

Wonpil gives this sort of half smile. Silently, Brian hands him the handkerchief from his pocket.

 

-

 

Jae thinks that this’ll be it. He could’ve done this earlier; it probably would have been over quicker because now it’s nearing one in the morning, but he figures that someone ought to drive by eventually. He’s pretty content knowing that this’ll probably end things completely, despite he fact that it’s quite a sad thing to be happy about. Jae’s always been that way. Always having found joy in the things that he shouldn’t; he supposes it’s just the way he’s been programmed, or perhaps there’s just a flaw in his coding.

He’s standing against a street lamp, head tipped back to the sky, enjoying whatever time he’s got left in this wretched place.

There’s a car in the distance. Jae can hear it.

When he feels it’s close enough, he steps out in front of it, and just like _that_ ,

He’s not dead.

No.

It was supposed to work this time around.

But the car wasn’t moving fast enough. He realizes a little too late that he hadn’t taken this into account. Now he’s very much not dead and his ribs hurt a lot but it’s nothing that he can’t take.

God, how stupid do you have to be to fail at killing yourself by getting hit by a car?

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”

And Jae would recognize that voice anywhere, because he’s heard it countless times through hushed promises in quiet rooms and timid praises against cotton sheets, and he swears to God that this is just his luck. Because he hadn’t just walked in front of anyone’s car, he’d walked in front of Brian Kang’s car. Brian Kang who he’s known for years. Brian Kang who he used to be (still is) in love with. Brian who used to tell him sweet nothings in exchange for smiles he believed were real and messy kisses that lasted hours. Brian who used to be his best friend with a little extra, but has stopped calling him as much as he used to. Brian fucking Kang of all the people in New York. Jae wishes that he’d just been speeding like he always used to.

“Are you still pulling shit like this?” Brian asks, incredulous.

“You know him?” a voice that Jae is unfamiliar with asks, and he wants to look but he’s currently face down in the middle of the road and his body hurts and Jae has zero intentions of moving willingly.

“Of course it _had_ to be you,” Jae spits when Brian flips him over, and he’s expecting some curses, a few insults here and there, telling Jae that he’s a fucking idiot, like he always used to when he tried these things, but what he’s not expecting is a punch square to the jaw. And the punches keep coming for a while; Jae just tips his head back and cackles like the maniac he knows he is, takes everything Brian gives him, until the person Brian was with is pulling him away and Jae is left to spit some blood before standing, knees wobbling. “You couldn’t have been speeding like you always used to? You couldn’t have just let me die?”

“I will _kill_ you if you die,” Brian says. “I _hate_ that you do this to yourself.”

Jae starts to stumble away. “You fucking love it, Brian. Don’t lie to me.”

“Where the hell are you going now?” Brian calls after him. Jae flips him off over his shoulder. “Jae, get in the fucking car.”

“I’m not going with you.”

 

-

 

Wonpil is watching Brian smirk triumphantly at Jae, who’s sat in the middle seat in the back, holding an ice pack that they’d picked up at the convenience store to his jaw.  He can see that Jae is bouncing his knee, staring out the window, and he wonders how the two know each other. Are they perhaps old friends? Ex-lovers? Acquaintances? Wonpil is very curious but does not think he’s in the right place to ask.

“Jae--”

“You stopped me from dying, you’re gonna stop me from smoking too?” When Wonpil glances back, Jae’s got an unlit cigarette between his lips and is mid-way to flicking his lighter on. Brian sighs.

“Fucking _fine_. Just roll down the window. We are absolutely not hotboxing the car.” Jae sticks his head out the window like a dog; Wonpil watches as he takes a drag, lets the smoke pour from his mouth slowly, unhurriedly, as though he’s letting it sink to his bones before allowing it to escape.

“Can I have a drag?” Wonpil asks without thinking, because he’s just now realizing that after his adrenaline crash, he’s been itching for a smoke, and he’s left his pack in his salon. Jae glances in his direction before looking back out the window, taking a drag for himself. Ouch. Okay. That’s fine. Wonpil slumps back in his seat.

“I threw a pack in the glove box. You can take one of mine,” Brian says, but then Jae interrupts him and says “ _Here_ ,” and when Wonpil looks back, Jae’s cigarette is shoved between his lips. He takes a long drag, exhales to the left of Jae’s face. Jae smiles gently at him.

“Can _I_ have a drag?” Brian asks, having watched the whole exchange go down out of the corner of his eye.

“Nah,” Jae says, and sits back in his seat.

“Why not? You gave him a drag and you’ve known him for a half hour. I’ve known you since we were fourteen.” And Brian genuinely sounds offended, and it makes Wonpil hold in a giggle. When Jae exhales, the smoke travels to the front of the car.

“Yeah, well a few things for you, dearest BriBri: 1) he’s cuter than you 2) you failed to help me complete the one thing I planned on accomplishing tonight and 3) like you said, you have your own pack in the glove box.”

Brian rolls his eyes. “Don’t be a brat. Pillie, do me a favour and light one up for me?” Wonpil does as told, reaching into the glovebox, finding an unopened pack of camels and a black Bic lighter with the words _without you I disappear_ scrawled upon it in messy silver Sharpie pen. Wonpil chuckles.

“Is this an MCR lyric? Really?” Brian snatches both the cigarettes and lighter from Wonpil’s hands. He steers with his knee as he lights one and throws his things back in the glovebox.

“Don’t judge me, Pillie. That song hits hard and you know it.”

“Brian was always a secret emo,” Jae pipes up from the back.

Wonpil takes the cigarette with deft fingers as it’s offered to him. Brian scoffs, turns the radio on low. _Zombie_ by The Cranberries is on its second verse. “How do you two know each other?”

“Best friends,” Brian says, at the same time that Jae says, “We used to fuck.”

Wonpil hums. “So what do we do now?”

“What do you mean?” Brian asks, glancing in Wonpil’s direction for a split second.

“Well, now I’m on the road with two dudes that I hardly know anything about, mildy traumatized with nowhere to go. What do we do now?”

“We could start by telling you about ourselves. Then you could just stay with us,” Brian suggests, Wonpil shrugs at the same time Jae gasps dramatically.

“Ooh, good idea, BriBri. I _love_ self introductions. I suppose this means that I have to stay with you too? I mean, you said ‘us’, so.”

Brian rolls his eyes. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“Good, now I’m under psych watch too.” Jae throws his cigarette out the window and rolls it up. “My name is Jae Park, short for something you don’t need to know, I’m twenty-two going on twenty-three going on five hundred, probably. I’m borderline insane, mildly suicidal, but it never actually works so I’m mainly just tired. What about you, Pillie?”

“Oh, me? Um, I’m Wonpil Kim, just turned twenty-one. I owned a salon until I accidentally killed my client a few hours ago.”

“You did _what_?” Brian and Jae ask in unison. Well, this explains the blood that’d been on his hands.

“It was an accident!”

“How do you accidentally murder someone?” And you’d think that Brian and Jae would be scared now, but they’re not. Confused, definitely. How could someone as small and nice as Wonpil do such a thing? But they’re not scared at all. Honestly, they’re both a little intrigued if anything.

“He touched me without my permission and when I pushed him away, I guess he slipped and hit his head on the bar. He bled out.” Oddly enough, Wonpil isn't so scared about it anymore. Besides, what could go wrong now that he’s got two other people to look out for him? “Please don’t take me to the police. I swear it was an accident.”

“We won’t take you to the police, baby, don’t worry,” Brian says, the pet name slipping past his lips without much thought, despite the fact that it’s largely uncalled for. Wonpil doesn’t seem to mind though. “Besides, if he touched you without your consent, he’s as good as dead anyways.” Brian may be a criminal, but he’s not an asshole.

“Okay,” Wonpil says, “anyways, what about you? I know nothing about you yet.”

“I’m Brian Kang,” Brian says, “Or Kang Younghyun. I was born in Korea but moved to Toronto, then to here when I was fourteen. I have a bad habit of picking fights and taking things that don’t belong to me. Y’know, hence this pretty baby we’re currently seated in.”

“You _stole_ this car?” Wonpil asks, scoffing in disbelief.

“You murdered somebody,” he points out. Wonpil scowls. “But don’t worry though, I changed the plates.”

Jae lets out a low whistle. “I can’t believe you’ve still got it in you. Badass, Kang. Bad fucking ass.”

 

 


	2. Breathe Him In, Give Me Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the beginning of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has _very_ explicit smut in it, so if that's not your cup of tea, scroll down to the jumpcut right before the 2017 section :), otherwise, i hope u enjoy u nasties
> 
> chapter title from wanna be missed by my wife hayley kiyoko (with the exception of pronoun switches)

They drive for what feels like forever until it’s ten a.m. and they need gas. They’d taken shifts for driving so they could sleep, even though Brian insisted in driving the majority of the way to wherever they’re going; he tries to hide it but both Jae and Wonpil can see that he’s exhausted. The gas station they pull up to is largely populated by tumbleweeds and the odd mouse that scurries across the lot, but it does the trick. Besides, there’s a store that sells snacks and all of them are starving. Brian sends Wonpil to get the snacks while he and Jae fill up the car.

“Fuck,” Brian says. He’s just finished filling up the tank.

“What’s your problem, klepto?”

“I gave Pil my card and I still need to pay for this.”

Jae gives him a look. “What is it with you and him?”

“What do you mean?”

“Brian, you don’t just find some random stranger with blood on their hands and invite them into your car. I know you’re insane, but that’s a little out of your aura, don’t you think?” And no, Brian doesn’t think it is. Sure, it’s a _little_ weird, and maybe he wouldn’t have done it if it was someone more intimidating and he wasn’t riding an adrenaline high, but that doesn’t mean it’s out of his aura. The implication is a bit insulting. (Despite the fact that he is denying to himself  the fact that it is completely, totally, 100% out of Brian “I-don’t-fuck-with-strangers” Kang’s aura).

“Sure you can. That is _literally_ what I did.”

“It took you _so_ much longer to fuck with me than it did him,” Jae says, and Brian swears that there’s a tinge of jealousy in his tone.

“Is that what this is about? I’m not fucking with him, Jaehyung. I’ve known him an hour longer than you have.”

“Don’t call me that,” Jae seethes, narrowing his eyes. “That’s _not_ what this is about, it was just an observation, you fuck. Don’t be so self-centred. I don’t care who you want to fuck around with, Brian. I’ve been there, done that. It’s not _my_ fault you stopped calling me.”

Brian really doesn’t want to get into this with Jae at the moment, because he’s just now letting it sink in that now that he’s stolen a car and traveling with an ex FWB and an accidental murderer, that they’re going to have to live a bit more discreetly and Brian’s not sure if he’s ready to become a full fledged criminal.

“We’re _not_ doing this here.”

Thank God Wonpil chooses this moment to return with a bag full of snacks and a case of Heineken for them, some Palm Bay for himself.

“I got the stuff that looked the best,” he says, his big grin stretched wide. “That happened to be anything that wasn’t expired. Where should I put it?”

“Some in the back, some in the trunk is fine, Pillie. Jae, we’ll finish this later.” Brian tries his best not to roll his eyes when Jae flips him the bird. He’s got to get a better comeback than that.

The gasp that comes from the back of the car is enough to stop both Jae and Brian from hopping in.

“What is it?” Jae asks.

“You might want to see this,” is Wonpil’s response. Jae and Brian share a look over the roof. When they reach the back of the car, the sight they’re faced with is far from what Brian had been expecting. In a large duffle bag lies stacks upon stacks of one hundred dollar bills-- it’s got to be at least a hundred grand. Brian can’t fucking believe his eyes.

“Fuck _yes_ ,” Jae breathes, reaching in to grab a stack,  flipping the bills between his fingers and grinning.

“You know what this means?” Brian asks. Before he can finish, Jae supplies an answer.

“A nice hotel room, shopping, then hitting the club. Oh, and weed. Lots of weed.”

Brian grins. “For once, Jae, you’re speaking my language.”

 

-

  


They settle for the honeymoon suite of the nicest motel they can find along the way (Jae had been a little upset about the fact that they’d chosen a motel and not a _hotel_ , but Brian had explained that unless they wanted to be broke in a week, they needed to conserve a little. Jae digressed), and hit a mall as soon as they throw their shit down and have quick showers (Brian promises a pouty Wonpil that he can test out the heart shaped jacuzzi tub when they get back from clubbing, because he might need it after a long night. Wonpil digresses too. Brian seems to be the leader and decision maker of this little thing that they have going on, much to Jae’s dislike). They buy _everything_ , clothes, shoes, makeup, all designer, or at least nothing less than fifty dollars, plus suitcases to keep it all in for the road and a whole set of new tide stain remover sticks for Brian’s messy tendencies. They even buy a fur coat for Wonpil, which he thinks is a little too flashy but the other two insist that he looks absolutely stellar, so he accepts with a shy grin.

Now, after having gone back to the room to get dressed and fix themselves up (all of them in high waisted slacks and loose fitting printed shirts with the top three buttons undone, Wonpil with the slightest hint of gold around his eyes and a tinge of red to his lips), they’re situated in one of the nicest gay clubs in DC, thanks to a good Google search, drinking various alcohols, having a fucking _ball_. It’s hard to think that only a day and a half ago they’d been mostly strangers, with no intent of doing anything even close to this, and now, they’re dancing together in a colourful club, laughing and talking like they’ve known each other for years. It almost feels that way.

In ways, they’re all very different. All from different walks of life, all with different stories, different mannerisms, ways of speech, idiosyncrasies, all totally different people who somehow managed to merge together. But in a way, they’re all very similar too, from the fact that they’re all criminals to the fact that they all have the same distaste for mundane things like the red in the mini-fridge of the motel, but are probably going to drink it anyways.

The night has been going alright, all fun and games, nothing too serious, but there’s a moment when the feeling shifts. Wonpil is standing by the bar drinking a margarita, eyeing Jae and Brian as they dance together, much too close for people who seemed to have a bittersweet distaste for one another only a few hours earlier. And maybe it’s the alcohol that had led them to be like this, Wonpil has a very easy time believing so, but maybe it’s also that they’d been pining, strung up on the fact that they’d been mad at each other for something Wonpil doesn’t know, thinking of the things that Wonpil can only imagine them doing with each other, that the emotions just flow out of them. Maybe it’s a just little bit of both.

And it might be the alcohol talking but something in Wonpil wants to be in between them, wants to be the one who they’re touching, wants it to be _him_ who’s Jae’s pulling flush against his body, that Brian is kissing on the neck. The air gets very hot and stuffy all of a sudden as Wonpil watches them, watches Brian swivel his hips to the beat of the song as Jae grabs handfuls of his ass, watches Brian glance over in his direction when Jae whispers something in his ear. And all of a sudden Wonpil is being called over by Brian, beckoned by the curl of a finger. He downs the rest of his margarita for liquid courage.

When he gets there, both of their hands find his waist. “We have a proposal, Pillie,” Brian says, but Wonpil already knows. He can’t find the words to say so he does the next best thing: he kisses Brian hard on the mouth. And it’s messy; all tongue and teeth and spit, and Brian tastes like whiskey and a hint of sugar and spice; it’s _intoxicating_ , making Wonpil weak in the knees. When he pulls apart, he’s not done, no, he turns to Jae and matches his grin before kissing him hard on the mouth, too. Jae is a tad bit different than Brian; where Brian had been hard and claiming, holding Wonpil like he’s the only thing that matters. Jae is soft but dominant, holding Wonpil like he belongs to him and nobody _but_ him. It makes Wonpil’s head spin. His lips are soft where they part and let Wonpil in, who is pleasantly surprised to find that Jae tastes like strawberry daiquiri and cigarettes. Brian must be feeling left out because he leans in to kiss Wonpil’s neck, hands toying with the waist of his slacks, fingers dipping in just to tease him.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Brian asks, suddenly aware of the other people around them, pressed against them, everything hot and sticky in the most displeasing ways.

“I mean otherwise we’d be charged for public indecency, but yes. I’d love to get out of here and ravish the both of you.” Wonpil whines quietly into Jae’s neck at his words, clutching gently at the front of his shirt. “Pillie? What’s the verdict?”

“I will literally die if one of you doesn’t fuck me tonight. So yeah. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Jae and Brian have no problem in pulling him from the club.

 

-

 

If they thought it was messy in the club, it’s even messier when they get back to the room. Jae and Brian are both not willing to leave Wonpil to walk to the store down the street to get supplies, so they childishly flip a coin to see who’s going to go. The loser is Brian, much to Jae’s joy, and he leaves with a huff, both upset that he has to leave Wonpil, that Jae will get the most of him, but also that he’ll have to leave looking the way he does, because even though he’d been driving, Wonpil could _not_ keep his hands off of him. Walking to the store with fucked up hair and a very obvious hard on is not the way that Brian would like to be spending the first bit of his night.

Back in the room, Jae is sat in the chair in the corner by the bed with Wonpil in his lap, kissing him fervently and rolling his hips. Jae’s hands slide down Wonpil’s back, fingers digging playfully into his behind, causing Wonpil to sigh contently.

“Take these off,” Wonpil says, breaking away from their kiss to pull Jae’s glasses away from his face. “They’re in my way.” But Jae raises a hand to stop him.

“I’d love to do that, because they’re in my way too, but I’m blind as a bat and I won’t be able to see you, baby.”

Wonpil just shrugs and takes them off anyways, placing them on the table. “Looks like you’re just going to have to imagine how cute I look when you fuck me, then.” All Jae can do is groan, pulling Wonpil back by the collar if his shirt, claiming his mouth once again. It’s when Wonpil begins to unbutton Jae’s shirt that the door opens, and a low whistle coming from it.

“You two just couldn’t bother to wait ten minutes, huh?” Wonpil looks over his shoulder and grins at Brian. His lipstick is smudged and his hair is a mess but he’s the asolute definition of lust and Brian’s damned if he’s not going to do something about it. “Look at you,” he says, closing the door and coming closer. “Jae’s already got you so messy, hasn’t he?” All Wonpil does is nod, lips parting in a silent moan when Jae nibbles at his collar bone, and Brian is so confused as to how he manages to stay so fucking adorable even when he’s sweaty and messy and has makeup smeared on him.

Brian then reaches out a hand to run through Wonpil’s hair, brushing it off of his forehead before he trails his fingers down Wonpil’s face, running his thumb over Wonpil’s bitten and spit slicked lips. Naturally, Wonpil takes the finger into his mouth, lapping his tongue over it. Brian curses under his breath when Wonpil pulls off and asks, “What can I do for you?”

“What do you want to do, Pil baby?”

“Can I give you head?”

Brian thinks he might die. There’s a blurry line of time between when they all fall onto the bed and when Wonpil is trying to rid Brian of his pants, and Jae of both Wonpil’s and his own, but they all make it out of their clothing with only some minor difficulty (ie, Wonpil cutely struggling with the ridiculous amount of clasps in Brian’s chinos). And then Wonpil is staring at him through his thick eyelashes and mouthing at the tent in Brian’s boxers, tongue flicking out to catch the bead of precome gathered there on the tip.

“Quit teasing,” Brian groans, threading his fingers through Wonpil’s hair and tugging gently. He lets Wonpil pull away so that he can pull off his underwear and toss them away, and Wonpil wastes no time in wrapping his lips around Brian and taking him all the way down so that his nose is pressed against the skin of Brian’s pelvis. “ _Fuck_ , Pil.”

And it’s good, _so_ good, Brian thinks he’s literally going to have his soul sucked out of his dick because Wonpil is so _good_ at this, taking him in like a fucking champ, not caring if he gags, moaning around Brian whenever he gives a particularly rough pull to his hair. He’s drooling all down Brian’s cock and his own chin but if anything it just makes the slide better, slicker. Wonpil is letting Brian use him, letting Brian’s grip on his hair indicate where he should go, how fast he should move. He looks particularly pretty when Brian pulls him off a moment to catch his breath, all red and teary eyed and covered in spit and precome but still so gorgeous.

“You’re doing to well for me, baby,” Brian says, running his fingers through the mess of fluids collecting on Wonpil’s chin, sticking them in his mouth; Wonpil sucks on them immediately. “Look so pretty with your gorgeous lips wrapped around me like that.”

“Yeah?” Wonpil asks when Brian pulls his fingers away. “You’re not too bad your-- _oh_.” Wonpil drops his head against Brian’s thigh, mouth falling open in a loud moan as he cuts himself off. When Brian looks behind Wonpil, he can see that Jae’s working a slicked up finger in and out of Wonpil.

“Attention whore,” Brian spits, but there’s no bite. It’s hard to truly mean it when Wonpil leans back up and resumes what he’d been doing before.

“Keep talking, klepto. It’s the only thing you’re good at.” And it’s so difficult to be mad at anything when Wonpil is doing what seems to be his absolute best (and if it’s not, Brian thinks that Wonpil should be crowned the Best at Giving Head, because it really, truly is the best head he’s ever received), but Jae is just so easy to be annoyed with, even though Brian really loves him deep down.

“Watch it, Park. You act so tough but you’re just a sack of bones and cigarette ash.”

Jae doesn’t seem to like that comment. “Easy there. Don’t forget who’s made you beg to cum so many times before. Don’t you remember how louder you used to scream for me to fuck you harder?”

Brian scoffs, though he can feel himself twitch against Wonpil’s tongue. Based on the garbled sound Wonpil makes, he can too. “Maybe if you actually did it, I wouldn’t have to. I’ve fucked you before too, Jae. Don’t pretend like you’re some big tough dom when you’re far from it.”

“Excuse me?” And Brian knows he fucked up because even if Jae can hardly see he’s still giving Brian this look that says _Test me one more time and see where it gets you._

Wonpil pulls away with a pop, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before speaking up. “As much as I’d love to see you guys have a fight to see who’s more dominant, I’m the one getting dicked tonight. Why are you arguing when you have a perfectly pliant, perfectly stretched, perfectly submissive bottom waiting to be fucked?”

Jae and Brian share a look.

“Alright,” Brian says. “How are we doing this?”

“Jae can fuck me, I can get you off?” Jae lets out a low whistle.

“Fine by me,” he says, and as he’s rolling on a condom and slicking himself up, about to press in, Wonpil stops him.

“Nuh uh. I don’t like doggy. On my back?”

“You’re _such_ a brat. Okay, pillow princess.” Jae rolls his eyes, but flips Wonpil over anyhow. Brian on the other hand, furrows his eyebrows.

“What about me? How are we gonna--”

“Sit on my face?”

Brian might pass out. Wonpil Kim is simply too much for him, for his gentle eyes and innocent tone mixed with such dirty, dirty words is absolutely intoxicating and Brian just can’t get enough of him. He turns so that he’s kneeling over Wonpil’s chest, Wonpil’s slender hands coming up to grip lightly at his thighs, a coy, yet shy smile on his lips.

Brian brushes Wonpil’s hair away from his face gently, mumbling, “You are going to be the death of me, Pillie,” just as Wonpil takes him into his mouth once more. And Jae must push in at the same time because Wonpil whines around Brian’s length, fingers digging gently into his skin. Brian can feel Wonpil’s body moving underneath him each time Jae thrusts particularly hard, but Wonpil still tries his best to please Brian, he can tell.

It’s so good; Wonpil is going like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, and Jae is moaning brokenly behind Brian, so it must be good, but he’s not exactly expecting it when Jae speaks up and it’s directed to him.

“Bri baby,” he says, and Brian can’t help but shudder at the pet name, because as much as he denies it, Jae is always the one to make him weak. “Lean forward for me.” He does as instructed (he usually does), but he’s _definitely_ not expecting it when there’s a slicked up finger circling his rim.

“ _Oh_ ,” he huffs out, a shaky breath leaving him when Jae pushes his finger into the pucker, fucking him with it slowly. He gets to two before Brian is panting, Jae’s fingers always having been so long and warm and _splendid_ inside of him, always twisting up his insides in the best ways. He’s a little embarrassed at how close he is already.

Wonpil, well, Wonpil feels like he’s going to pass out from how good it is. He’s trying his best to bob his head for Brian, to make Brian feel as good as he’s currently feeling, but it’s hard when Jae is fucking into him like it’s the only thing he knows how to do, so good and deep and _hard,_ hitting his sweet spot dead on with every tumultuous thrust. He’s moaning brokenly, hands scrabbling for purchase at the plush skin of Brian’s thighs, all thick and perfect for him to grab onto, his jaw falling slack, allowing Brian to use his mouth.

Jae is gripping onto Wonpil’s waist with one hand while he fucks Brian open with he other, the perfect angle to hit the spot that he knows will have Brian cumming in no time, doing all of the things he can to make Brian (and, respectively, Wonpil. But Brian has been a brat. The best thing Jae can do is to give him the pleasure he so desperately needs and wring him as tight as possible before letting him unravel), quiver. Jae knows Brian like the back of his hand, has been there through thick and thin, knows exactly what to do that will make Brian tremble under his touch, because while Jae knows Brian’s mind better than he knows his own, he knows Brian’s body just as well.

He’s biting a mark into Brian’s shoulder, the hand gripping Wonpil’s waist now sliding down to wrap around his untouched length, giving him the touch he so desperately needs, the pressure he so badly wants to have, the puddle of precome pooling on his stomach just proving it further to Jae. Wonpil lets out this high pitched whine around Brian’s cock, it rings in Jae’s ears, makes his hips stutter just from hearing it.

“You two are being so good for me,” he pants, “so fucking gorgeous. Both of you.”

There is a moan of acknowledgement from the both of them, then, Brian whining high, “ _Oh_ , I’m so close.”

Jae hardly even remembered that Brian could make such a sound, because it took so much for him to get there, for him to get so truly desperate and hot; he must be so overwhelmed by everything. Jae finds it absolutely endearing, but he would never mention it out loud.

“Go ahead, Bri baby. Come on.” And Brian must cum just from that because he lets out another whimper and tenses under Jae’s touch.

Wonpil is really going to end him. He doesn’t mean to cum in his mouth, but Wonpil is holding him in place and there’s not really much he can do about it but he feels bad because while he may not mind when others do it to him, he thinks that Wonpil might find it gross.

“Fuck, Pillie, I’m so--” but then Wonpil does something Brian can hardly even comprehend. He swallows. And _grins_. “ _Fuck_ , you really are going to kill me.” All Wonpil does is hum at him, face screwing up in pleasure when Brian climbs off of him and replaces Jae’s hand with his own. And then Jae kisses Brian as he fucks into Wonpil all torrid, and Jae still tastes like he always used to; his lips are still soft but chapped, so plump and welcoming and delicious. Brian has to wonder to himself why he was stupid enough not to come back to Jae sooner.

He hates to admit it, but he always wanted to. Besides being somebody to mess around with, Jae was Brian’s best friend. He’s wanted to come crawling back for months, but he’d been scared. Their situation was messy, ill thought out and confusing, especially when feelings come into play. Brian was stupid to ever leave, but he knows now that he never will again.

The sound that Wonpil makes when he cums is enough to have Jae’s hips stutter and a shudder run through his body. It’s absolutely lewd, all drawn out and high pitched; if Brian hadn’t cum a few moments earlier that definitely would have done it for him. He arches off the bed when he spills, spurting all over his own chest and Brian’s fingers, and Jae follows suit, hips stuttering to a stop and spilling into latex. Wonpil, like the absolute freak he is, brings Brian’s cum-covered fingers to his mouth and licks them clean. Brian blushes furiously.

“So, Wonpil,” Jae says when he pulls out, tying up the condom and tossing it into a nearby bin. “How about we all go put that love tub to the test?”

 

-

 

They’re hardly drunk anymore when they’re in the tub, and it’s a tight squeeze but they make do. Jae’s got his glasses low on the bridge of his nose, his hair wet and pushed up off of his forehead, he’s smoking a cigarette as he’s watching Brian rub soap into Wonpil’s shoulders. Everything is lax; a The 1975 song is playing from Jae’s phone on the edge of the tub, next to a pack of camels and a lighter with hearts all over it, which Wonpil had picked up before discovering the money in the trunk, alongside three paper cups from the dispenser on the sink, stained red from the wine they all unanimously decided was disgusting but as predicted, drank anyways.

They need to formulate a plan. And figure out what the hell is going to happen between them. Jae has a hard time believing that he (or either of the other two) will be able to just carry on being _bros_ , and be okay with it, because while he and Brian are used to pretending that times like these meant nothing, it doesn’t mean that they enjoyed it. As for the plan of what the fuck they’re doing, Jae’s sure none of them have a clue. He certainly doesn’t. The whole aspect of driving away with Brian Kang and Wonpil Kim seemed okay until it actually happened. What happens when they run out of Stamina? Of tolerance for one another? Of money? He figures that they can probably pull some drastic strings to acquire some more, but if they go the way they’re going, it’ll be months before they run out.

“Jae, light me up a cig?” It’s Brian who’s speaking, he’s got his hair stuck down to his forehead with water, little droplets coming off of the strands and falling down his cheeks. Jae just shrugs and passes his own over, tosses an arm around Wonpil, who’s slid in beside him at some point while he was thinking and is curled into Jae’s side.

Now it’s Jae’s turn to ask what they’re going to do.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we can’t just toss in a no homo, because we are all very much homos and there’s nothing _not_ homo about what just happened, and we can’t just forget about it either, so what are we going to do?” Jae really doesn’t have a clue. He’s not really the type of person that likes a deadset label on anything, but he’s so fucking sick of having feelings and not knowing what to do with them.

Wonpil shrugs. “I say we just go with the flow.”

“Yeah,” Brian says. “You and I like each other, that’s a given. Adding Wonpil to the mix isn’t the craziest thing we’ve ever done. Let’s just go with the flow.”

“Alright,” Jae digresses. “Go with the flow.”

 

**_2017_ **

 

Going with the flow works in more ways than one. For one, they don’t try to label what they have, for it’s more than simply love and lust, it’s a whole galaxy of different emotions and feelings, ones that can’t describe but they certainly wouldn’t give up for the world. And for two, they don’t really need a plan to figure out what’s going on. They’ve got enough money that they can easily hop from motel to motel across the country, got enough for food, drinks, Jae’s love for books that Brian had nearly forgotten about, but has no problem in supporting financially.

They’re still cautious, keep their eyes on the news, but the whole stolen car and fire cases had been closed early into this year, and all Jae’s ever done is rob a few people in clubs, so they don’t really have to worry about him. Besides, Brian had traded the car in for a slightly less exciting Mercedes even older than the one previously, and it had paint that was beginning to wear away in some places and rust by the wheels but it also had a spacious back seat and leather seats for easy cleanup whenever one of them was either too desperate or too lazy to go all the way back to the motel.

Currently, they’re in Arkansas, planning on making it through here and East so they can begin to make their way to California, their final destination. Truthfully, their not quite sure how it’s going to go for them there, seeing as not only are they all gay, they’re all _dating_ each other, too. They all decide it doesn’t matter much. If they’re subjects to hate crimes, at least they’re in in it together. And there are all the more people to call the police. Life could be worse. They are, however, hoping that they _won’t_ be subject to any hate related crimes. It just happens to be a thought floating in the air.

The motel they stay at is a classy kind of cheap. Classy enough to have California king sized mattresses made after the early two thousands, but cheap enough to have an actual key and not a card to open the door. The wallpaper is kind of gross and there’s a stain from god knows what on the carpet, but there’s a big tub with jets and complementary condoms on the nightstand, which, they definitely won’t be using because the chances of expiry are high, but it’s the thought that counts. Honeymoon suite perks, they suppose.

“Home sweet home,” Jae huffs, throwing his suitcase down and flopping onto the bed spreadeagle. “Or, not so home sweet home. Have I ever mentioned how not thrilled I am to be in Arkansas?”

“Yes,” Brian says, pushing him over and flopping down too. “Many times. It's only a week. It’s little but not little enough to drive through all at once. At least, I’m not willing to. And I know you aren’t either, because all you do is whine about how uncomfortable you are all the time.”

“My legs are long, Bri. Cars are not compatible for me. This fucking earth is not compatible for my size.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe you’re the one who’s not compatible for these things?” Wonpil asks, squeezes in between them “Brian and I fit fine into most things.”

“Yeah that’s because you’re like, five foot nothing. You’re a gremlin in my eyes.” Wonpil hits Jae’s arm.

“I beg your pardon, I am five foot seven and _three quatres_ , thank you very much,” Wonpil informs him, annoyance clear on his face. Brian laughs at them both.

“Yeah and I’m well over six feet. Brian is five ten--”

“And like, a half,” Brian cuts in. Jae rolls his eyes.

“You’re getting technical too? You’re five ten. Shut up. Case in point: Jae is too big for cars and he’s got shitty joints so he has the fucking right to complain about sitting in the same cramped spot for hours at a time. You guys try switching lives with me. It’s not that easy.” Jae throws an arm across Brian and Wonpil in an attempt to shut them up and make them stop attacking him.

“Yes, Jae,” Brian says, sarcasm is dripping from is tone. “Your life is _so_ hard. All you’ve got is two loving boyfriends and thousands of dollars and sex virtually whenever you want it. _Such_ a difficult life.”

“Yeah, yeah, are you going to follow this up with ‘there are starving children in Africa’ or am I dodging that bullet tonight?”

“I mean did you want it?” Brian asks, “ because I could throw it in there if you do. I wasn’t going to, but now that you’ve said it, it’s _so_ much more tempting.”

“It’s official,” Jae declares. “Wonpil is my favourite boyfriend.” Wonpil giggles, leans up to press a kiss to Jae’s cheek.

“Unfair,” Bria tuts, tipping up his chin, despite the fact that he’s laying down with his face pressed into a pillow.

“Totally fair,” Jae retorts. “He’s cuter than you and he doesn’t fight back when I give him orders. Unlike someone else I know. Oh, and he takes me to clubs.”

“I'm cute and I take you to clubs too,” Brian interjects, pouting. “We all take each other to clubs. It’s a mutual thing.”

“Yeah,” Jae says through a sigh, “but he’s the one that suggests it. Which reminds me: we’re going to a club tonight. I’m not spending my night doing nothing in a shitty state like this.”

“Fair,” Brian says. “Pil?”

“I’m in.”

Jae grins. “Well then, to the club we go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so could you tell that i've never written a threesome before? jesus take the wheel this is the most explicit thing i've ever written and it's not even that bad


	3. Even the Moon is Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a fatal occurrence. a happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this gets really angsty!! without spoiling too much there's major character injury!! but it is 1) not graphic and 2) going to end up being okay because doctor wonpil takes care of it somehow. it's more angsty than anything else. if anything, this is where the robbers aspect comes in, if you catch my drift. enjoy!  
> chapter title from 365 fresh by triple h

**_2017_ **

 

They hadn’t been expecting it, and they definitely hadn’t been planning for it. If anything it’s karma biting them all in the ass. They’re not even quite sure how they lose it, in a bet, robbery, whatever. All that matters is that their money is gone. All of it. Save for what Brian had stashed in the glove box and the few fifty dollar bills in his wallet. Thousands of dollars just _gone_.

“What are we going to _do_?”

Wonpil is the most frustrated about it. He had been the one that did most of their planning, most of their budgeting to make it so they lasted as long as possible with whatever they had left. Jae and Brian had left it to him, seeing as he was the most organized, the most meticulous. It was on all of them though.

“What is there to do? We don’t have anywhere to live. We can’t rent motel rooms with no cash to give them, and none of us have credit cards, right?” Brian is pacing with his hands in his hair, tugging insistently on the strands, whether it’s to reprimand himself or just because he’s so frustrated, all of them are unsure. They’ve got nothing now. Just under five hundred, maybe. Maybe close to seven with what was in Brian’s wallet, _maybe_. It’s wishful thinking.

“We could sell stuff, maybe? We’ve got tons of expensive shit. Designer,” Jae suggests. “People kill for that, no?” Brian shakes his head.

“We’ll never sell it in time,” he says. “And we need to wear it. We only have so many articles of clothing. We have enough money for this room, maybe another. We still need gas, and food.”

“I still have a debit card, there’s some money in there but not much. I wasn’t exactly the richest person in the world. Trade secret: running your own business makes you jack shit.” Wonpil flops back on their California king, tosses an arm over his face. “We’re fucked.”

“No we’re not.” Jae flops down next to Wonpil and places a hand on his thigh. It’s then that an idea hits him. “Bri,” he says, sits up straight. “Do you still have that gun?”

“Yeah, why?”

The gun is nothing fancy, but a small handgun that Brian had won in a game of pool at a bar in Ohio, they’d all taken turns learning how to shoot empty bottles out back with the owner. It sits under the passenger's seat of their car. Brian can hardly fathom why on earth they would ever need it now, because it was for emergencies only, more of a souvenir than anything.

“Let’s hold a stick up.”

Brian stops pacing and drops his hands. “Jae baby, I love you, but you’re fucking crazy.”

“What, Klepto Kang is scared to steal? You heard yourself. You heard Pillie. We’re fucked. We need money. This is how we can get it.”

“Jae,” Brian huffs. “I’m a _pickpocket_. I stole a car _once_. I’ve stolen like, _one_ watch from a store. I’m not an armed robbery kind of guy and neither are you.” Brian’s at the halfway point between wanting to kill Jae for even suggesting it because it’s fucking crazy and kissing him because it may be crazy but it could _work_ and Brian doesn’t want to admit it. It’s _dangerous_. They’ve been crime free for so long that it feels weird to even _suggest_ it.

“Bri,” Wonpil says. He’s sitting up too, hand overlapping Jae’s on his own thigh. “I hate to admit it, babe, but it could work. We’re kinda desperate. I would never usually suggest this but there’s not really much else we could do.”

“And besides,” Jae adds. He’s got that stupid shit eating grin on his face, like he’s about to say something that’ll either annoy Brian or flip everything around. “It’s been forever since we had some adventure. Don’t you think that we should spice things up a little?”

“Oh, like what?” Brian asks sarcastically. “Fucking in a pile of money and getting arrested for armed robbery?”

“I mean for the first one, if you’re up for it, we haven’t switched in a while.” Wonpil giggles at that. Brian rolls his eyes.

“Jae, first of all, that’s unsanitary--”

“When have you ever cared about cleanliness?”

“Need I remind you that I carry _two_ stain remover sticks and a pack of wet wipes on me at all times?”

“You’re just meticulous,” Wonpil cuts in, then shrinks back upon the _Really?_ look that Brian gives him.

“Second of all, we don’t need to spice up our lives. We need money. We live our lives on the run moving a state a week. Isn’t that… spicy enough?” Wonpil bursts into a fit of laughter. Brian shoots him a look, but he doesn’t let up.

“I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just make a fool of yourself _and_ the English language and reiterate that I just gave you a perfectly valid way to get money. You don’t have to agree but I just think that it could help us.”

Brian sighs. “Will it make you happy?”

“How am I supposed to be your sugar baby if I don’t have any sugar?”

“Okay, firstly, you’re not and secondly, I don’t think it works like that.”

“You’re right,” Jae says. “I don’t think sugar babies are supposed to dom their sugar daddies.”

“Off topic,” Brian warns.

“Yes. It would make me very happy. Over the fucking moon.”

Brian directs his attention to Wonpil, who’s stopped laughing and is now sitting quietly, staring up at Brian. “Pillie?” he asks.

“I mean, if anything, _I’m_ the sugar baby, but yeah. I’d be happy to have cash again, even if it’ll take some drastic measures to obtain it.”

“Alright then.” Brian nods. “We rob a store. What have we got to lose?”

“All we’ve got is each other,” Wonpil says. Jae and Brian nod in agreement.

 

-

 

They’d made a plan the night prior, and it was supposed to be simple. In and out, draw the gun, grab the money, drive away. And it started out that way, Jae with the bandana wrapped around to cover his face, Wonpil with his sunglasses and his hair tucked back into a cap, face obscured, hand in hand as Brian waited in the car, foot on the gas ready to speed away as soon as they were back.

It was supposed to be simple, but it wasn’t.

They both know the plan like the back of their hand, Brian knows well that if shit hits the fan, they get back to the motel, grab their shit and go, just to drive until the sun goes down and rises again, anything to get them away.

It happens in an instant. Wonpil’s just finished kissing Jae over his bandana, they’re running in, Jae’s drawing the gun, screaming about putting the money in the bag that Wonpil is holding open, but they’re not expecting this.

The owner of the store has a gun.

It happens before they can even process, before either of them can even realize what’s going on, before they can even _think_ of what they’re going to do in this case. He _fires_ it, the bullet lodging itself into Jae’s side. Wonpil freezes. Jae’s scream is loud in his ears, and he hardly registers it at all when he takes the gun from Jae’s hands and shoots the man in his head, killing him in cold blood.

“Pil, Pil--” Jae’s slurring, hands gripping his side, Wonpil doesn’t need Jae to tell him. He grabs the money from the register and shoves it in his bag, takes the man’s gun for good luck.

They run. They run for their lives to the car (Jae only stumbles a few times), and Wonpil can see the fear on Brian’s face when he notices the blood, the look of pain, Wonpil’s grimace.

“What--”

“Fucking drive, Younghyun. _Drive_.”

Wonpil lays Jae down so that his head is in hs lap even though he’s thrashing, back arching in pain, sobs openly leaving his mouth. “Pillie,” he gasps, “oh, Pil it hurts so bad.” Wonpil thinks he hears Brian stifle a cry in the driver’s seat but he can’t even acknowledge it. Hastily, he removes both Jae’s bandana and his own shirt, his hat and glasses coming off with it. He pops the buttons of Jae’s blouse, eyes where Jae’s hands are pressing against the wound.

“I know, Jae baby, I know, but you’re gonna have to move your hands for me.” Jae is shaky to comply, but Wonpil presses the bandana and shirt to Jae’s side, trying not to outwardly cry at how fast they soak through.

Wonpil’s running a hand through Jae’s hair, shushing his whimpers, trying so desperately to take his mind off of it for now, until they can clean him, patch him up. The trees and road signs are passing by in a blur, Brian’s absolutely killing it in the front; Wonpil’s sure the gas pedal is pressed right to the ground.

“Brian,” Jae calls. Brian instantly reaches one hand to the back, just to touch Jae, whether it’s to assure Jae that he’s there or to assure himself that Jae’s not going to slip away, Wonpil is unsure, but his eyes are teary when Jae speaks up again. “I love you. I’m so sorry that I took everything for granted. I’m so sorry that I didn’t listen to you. I don’t wanna die anymore, Bri. I have things to live for.”

The choked sob that Brian gives in the front rips Wonpil’s heart in half. “Don’t say that. Don’t fucking say that. You’re not dying. I told you. I’ll fucking kill you if you die, Jae. I love you too much to let you die on me.”

Their motel is only five or so minutes away but it feels like they’re driving for hours before they arrive, as the tension is so thick they could slice it with a knife. Brian carries Jae in his arms, Wonpil gets the door for them, rushes to the bathroom for medical supplies. There isn’t much, only the stuff they’d bought when Brian had gotten that bottle smashed over his head in a bar fight: cotton gauze, surgical bandages, antiseptic spray, a pair of soft-ended tweezers. Brian’s right behind him, setting Jae on the counter and letting him lean up against the mirror, grimacing at the sob of pain he gives when he’s placed down.

It’s no doctors job, but Wonpil is glad that somehow he knows what to do in a situation like this. When he examines it, he’s lucky to find that the bullet hasn’t gone all the way through, that it’s just lodged under the flesh, the shell still intact. He cringes when he pulls it out with the tweezers, both from the whimper that Jae produces and the sight itself. He can hear Brian whispering little praises into Jae’s ears, telling him it’s okay, he’ll be fine, Wonpil will fix it.

Brian is fucking terrified. He’s seen Jae hurt bad before, sure, seen him at the worst of times, but never in his life has Brian ever seen Jae hurt this bad. He’s never heard Jae ever sound so sincere, never ever been put in a situation like this, where there’s a chance that someone he loves could _die_ and it’s partially his fault. If he hadn’t said yes when they’d ran it by him, it would have never happened.

Jae’s leant against the mirror, Brian with his forehead to Jae’s, talking him through it, holds him steady when Wonpil cleans it, his body thrashing about with the sting.

“Hurts,” he pants out, arms tightening around Brian’s neck.

“I know, Jae baby,” he says, sadness laced in his tone. “Wonpil’s going to make it better for you. Get you all nice and patched up so you can still be a little shit for us, okay? But you gotta stay still. What can I do for you?”

“Kiss me,” Jae says, “kiss me, kiss me.” His hands leave blood on Brian’s neck where they pull him in, lips meeting Brian’s roughly. He kisses like it’s the last time he’ll ever do it again, as though Brian will slip away from him if he doesn’t kiss with this much fervor, with this much need. Brian kisses back just as hard, his hands wiping the tears that spill from Jae’s eyes, brushing his hair away from his face.

“All done,” Wonpil pipes up as they break away. They both look down to see the handiwork: a gauze bandage and some medical tape wrapped twice around Jae’s middle to keep it in place; nothing too fancy but enough that it won’t get infected. “It’s no medical grade work but it gets the job done. We’ll probably need to go out to get some antibiotics and some pain meds. You won’t be able to take anything orally for a while until swelling goes down and the bleeding stops, but some rest should be good enough for a little bit.”

“Come here,” Jae says, beckoning Wonpil from his crouching position. When he stands, Jae kisses him with just as much raw emotion and fervor as he had with Brian, thumbs rubbing along Wonpil’s cheeks, his bare chest, smearing blood on him, too. When they pull apart, Jae runs his thumb along Wonpil’s bottom lip, staring at him heavily, watching him dart out his tongue to catch both the finger and the blood on his lip. “God, you’re absolutely _wild_.” Wonpil reddens, smiling tinily. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“And you.” Jae turns his attention to Brian. “I love you more than I can put into words. Both of you.”

“We love you too,” Brian says; Wonpil nods.

“I’m so sorry I scared you both like that.”

“Baby, I love you, but you did not just apologize for getting _shot_.” Jae shrugs, then grimaces. Wonpil kisses his shoulder to take his mind off of the pain.

“It’s just, if I didn’t suggest holding a stick up, I probably wouldn’t have gotten shot. I mean, we’re in _Arkansas_. What kind of dumbass thinks to hold a stick up in Arkansas? You’re allowed to open carry here.”

“Jae,” Wonpil says, turning Jae’s head with a shaky finger. “Shut the fuck up. You could not have known that would happen. It’s no one’s fault but the one who did it. Don’t blame yourself for something you had no control over. We definitely won’t. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jae whispers, whether it’s to Wonpil or to himself, both Brian and Wonpil are unsure. “Did you grab the money, Pil?”

“Every last dollar.”

“How much?”

Wonpil shrugs. “Around ten thousand, probably. I couldn’t count. Enough for us to live for a while.”

Jae smiles. “How about that fucking in a pile of money, huh?”

Brian snorts. “Maybe once you’re all healed up and not bleeding out of a bullet wound. Just maybe.”

“Whatever,” Jae says, but he’s still grinning. “You know what this means?”

“What?” Brian and Wonpil ask in unison. Jae’s grin only widens.

“Honeymoon suites, pink champagne, and weed for _days_. We’re living lavish, babes.”

And it’s not perfect, but it’s not like they would have it any other way.

 

-

 

**_2018_ **

 

California feels like more of a home to them than Brooklyn ever did. They’d gone and thrown their guns away on an empty dirt road somewhere out in Oklahoma when they’d driven through, deciding that they wouldn’t need them anymore and left all of the things they’d done to get here behind them. They get jobs (Wonpil back in a hair salon, Brian at a pop news company, and Jae as the secretary at a piercing and tattoo shop that gave him the piercings he’s always wanted at a discounted price just for being nice to customers) and pay the downpayment on an apartment on the outskirts of La Brea, mostly for the fact that they have easy access to the beach (only a forty minute drive), but also because it’s out of the hustle and bustle of LA.

Today they lay on towels that they’d bought in a beach shop earlier in the evening, for they decided upon going to the beach on a complete whim. Jae is laying out tanning his ghostly pale skin with Wonpil next to him, both in their swim trunks, watching Brian surf on the board that they’d rented from the shop. They both hadn’t believed him when he said he could surf (they’d lived in Brooklyn for god’s sake. Where the hell would he have learned to surf?), but he was actually much better than they’d thought he’d be. Besides, they both like to ogle at him with his hair (which had grown out quite long and Wonpil had dyed silver for him) dripping onto his cheeks, wetsuit clinging to his tan skin for dear life.

When he comes in, surfboard under his arm and his entire body dripping, he’s grinning.

“Babe,” he says, and usually that pet name would be directed to only on person but it’s directed at either one of them. “Towel me.”

“Nah,” Jae says, glancing at Brian over his sunglasses. “I’m too lazy.”

“I’m busy,” Wonpil says, nose buried in a book.

“I hate both of you,” Brian responds, flicking salt water from the tips of his fingers in both of their faces and going about grabbing a towel himself.

“Gross,” Jae says, sticking out his tongue at the taste of salt on his lips. Wonpil remains unbothered, humming. “You’re gross and I hate you.”

“Oh no,” Brian says monotonously to no one in particular. “He says that  I’m gross and he hates me. What will I do now?”

“Shut up, you piece of shit. Why am I dating you?” Jae asks, but clears his stuff out of the way so that Brian can put down his towel and lay beside him.

“Because I’m super intelligent and funny,” Brian tells him.”

“Because you like his ass,” Wonpil adds uninterestedly, flipping a page in his novel. Something Murakami that he’d stolen from Jae’s book case. Jae groans and sits up just to flop back down again.

“I’m breaking up with the both of you.”

“You would never,” Brian says. He pokes Jae’s flat stomach, narrowly avoiding the scar that had arisen a day they don’t talk about anymore. “We give you too much happiness for you to drop us.” Jae wants to say something snarky, but as ridiculous sounding as Brian’s comment had been, it’s true.

“You’re lucky that I love you enough to not be a bitch and agree,” Jae grins, leaning over to kiss Brian’s shoulder. He’s slid down the wetsuit so that it’s bunches around his waist and his chest it bare but Jae’s lips still taste salty when he licks them. “Where would I be without you?”

“Probably dead. Or still living in that stupid trailer,” Brian says. Wonpil gives a noise of approval.

“That trailer was not stupid and I sacrificed my favourite books for you.”

“You’ve sacrificed your _life_ for me,” Brian points out.

“For me too,” Wonpil juts in. He turns away from his book to kiss Jae’s arm before returning his attention to it. Jae pats his head endearingly. Wonpil smiles.

“Yeah, yeah. Thank god you hit me with your car.”

Brian grins, cracks open a can of soda. “I’ll drink to that.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you've reached the end! this is my first completely chaptered fic and i'm proud of myself for actually finishing it and not leaving it (cough cough my tutoring fic) unfinished. thank you so much for finishing this! the concept probably wasn't as good as you'd expected but i'm glad that people actually got through this haha


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